Disease of love and affection
by thenerdyangel
Summary: Just because they're part of the Avengers Initiative doesn't mean they aren't human. Definitely not normal humans, but still humans. A rather unfortunate event occurs, do they stay a team or is that it for the avengers. Clintasha (Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff) *WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH*
1. Chapter 1

As she had expected, Steve Rogers (or Captain America, whatever you wanna call him) was in the basement of the Avengers mansion beating the crap out of a leather punch bag hanging from the low plaster ceiling. With each punch, dust flew around, floating in the rays of sun that snuck through the slim lines of the metal grates on the wall. Not wanting to interrupt, she leaned in the glass doorway; arms folded across her large black jumper. Once he'd quite literally beaten the life out of the bag and sent it flying across the gym, she felt now was the right time to let him know she was here. She did so by clearing her throat and straightening up.

"Oh, hey…" he jumped, turning around to face the door, his pale blonde hair stuck to his damp forehead with sweat "ah, Natasha" he finished with a smile, dragging his arm across his head.

"Hiya Steve" she nodded "can we talk?" looking up at him, she patted the small wooden bench leaning against the red brick wall closest to the punch bags.

He nodded a yes and sat beside her, wiping his face with a towel "how can I help?"

Natasha looked down at her small hands in her lap, she was exhausted, the kind of exhausted where she could sleep for days and days but still be tired. "Well…" she started, sighing and swallowing hard "I can trust you, you're not like the others… you wouldn't do anything without asking, so I'm going to tell you something serious"

Frowning, he patted her arm and smiled warmly "I'm glad you trust me, so, what is it?" His smile made his eyes shine and look you and innocent, making Natasha smile back weakly.

"Well…" she started, swallowing hard again "I have-" a horrific shooting pain interrupted her, she suddenly felt sick and weak, she dived across the room and into the small bathroom, where she fell to her knees and threw up. Her throat stung like crazy and her gut felt as if it was being stabbed repeatedly.

"Natasha?" Steve's voice came quietly from the doorway "what's wrong…?" his voice was gentle and calming, but his concern stood out a lot.

Slowly her arm wiped across pale her face and her breath went back to its normal pace, she looked up at him with her sad and tired grey eyes "I have cancer" she whispered roughly "I have for months now; I just got back from my first treatment session"


	2. Chapter 2

Calmly, Steve knelt beside Natasha and wiped the hair from her cold face; getting worried or fussed wouldn't help her condition so he did his best with comforting and not fussing.

"Let's go upstairs" he whispered softly, lifting her cautiously up by the arms "you need to get into bed"

She didn't protest, just groaned and straightened herself up. Dizzily she made her way back through the dark gym and waited for Steve at the bottom of the glass staircase. On her way down she'd noticed nobody was home, therefore she wouldn't be asked questions.

"Steve?" she asked as he walked up to her with his gym back "no one else can know, I mean it." Her face was straight and serious, eyes narrowing in her interrogating way.

Sighing, he took her arm carefully and helped her up the glass steps "I won't because you don't want me to" he agreed reluctantly "but I really think you should." They were now in the sitting room; heavily he sat beside her and turned the TV on, waiting for a response.

Eventually she puffed and rubbed her head "No, I'm not telling them." She frowned at the floor and held a cushion close to her stomach, it hurt like hell, churning and twisting, making her uncomfortable. Refusing to let the pain win, she hissed and shuffled in her seat, she was an agent, a top agent, and a stupid thing like stomach ache wasn't going to defeat her.

"It's okay to be hurt. You're only a human Natasha." Steve told her without looking from the TV, a hint of sadness in his voice. How'd he know she was hurting? Was she making it that obvious? Frowning, she shuffled again, it was impossible to get comfortable with the horrific shooting pain rushing around her gut.

Then it hit her: the tongue numbing; saliva increasing; throat stinging; head tightening feeling of sickness. Her body did the natural thing of stiffening and leaning forward, it was too late to go to the nearest bathroom. A warm strong hand comforted the back of her head as she threw up stomach acid over the freshly polished antique pine flooring. Spluttering, she sat back up and groaned, holding her head until the room stood still. Before she had chance to fully stand herself up, Steve pushed her down gently by the shoulders and stood up himself, walking into the open-area of the kitchen to grab cleaning equipment.


	3. Chapter 3

Lightly Natasha was placed onto the soft white mattress in her room by Steve. She could have walked here fine but Steve insisted on carrying her, even though it was unnecessary. Every part of her hated being cared for, it made her feel stupid and unable, which she wasn't. Huffing and puffing, she weakly pushed his large hands away as he continued to attempt to help her more. Taking the hint his aid wasn't appreciated he put his hands by his sides and perched softly on the wooden edging of the bed, nervously coughing.

"You can go, I'll be fine, and it's just like having a cold." Natasha sighed, rolling her eyes and propping herself up with giant pillows.

"It isn't just a cold Natasha" he snapped slightly, shaking his head before turning to face her "you need to start accepting help. You're ill, seriously ill"

"I know I'm ill!" her light brows furrowed into a frown, orange strands of hair stray across her pale forehead "but I can get better."

Nodding, he patted her leg "yes, you can, but accept the help"

Her grey eyes averted to the padded quilting on the bed, mindlessly she picked at the stitching as her bottom lip quivered. Natasha Romanoff never _ever _cried, at least not in front of people, but this was an exception. She was scared, not the kind of hidden scared she always felt whilst on missions, but the scared where she hurt in every way possible and just wanted to burst into tears. Slowly she brushed her hair backwards, closing her eyes and resting her head on the headboard. A few moments later her eyes opened because Steve's hand was gently patting the top of hers, passing his warmness onto her.

"I'm scared" she whispered, half hoping he hadn't heard. He did hear. Cautiously he shuffled closer to her, gradually wrapping his muscular arm around her slumped shoulders. His body head rubbed off on her, warming her up a little bit, but she was still shivering.

"I know you're scared, but everything's going to be fine" he reassured her quietly. "Like I said, you're strong, you can overcome this, but you need to just let people help you"

Natasha sighed again and closed her eyes. "Thanks for being here for me" she nodded quietly.

"It's alright" he nodded back politely, blonde hair staying in its place. He lifted himself up and sat beside her, muscular arm draped around her small shoulders, strong chin rested on her wavy hair. Natasha moved her head and looked up at Steve's face, his blue eyes were shining sadly down back at her, she kind of felt really bad for making him keep such a big secret, it was probably making him feel bad. Sighing, she closed her eyes again, making him smile reassuringly and stroke her hair.

"It'll be okay" he said for about the millionth time, making her open her eyes and flash him a fake smile. "That doesn't work on me" he chuckled, raising an eyebrow at her smile before gently kissing her pale lips, she didn't pull away or kiss him back, she just kind of sat there.


	4. Chapter 4

"Steve…" Natasha called to the captain, who was busy tidying around Natasha's room even though she'd continuously insisted she'd do it tomorrow or at least get one of Tony's workers to do so. Steve turned around, giving her his full attention. "I gotta admit something" she laughed half-heartedly, making his brow furrow in confusion, making him looking even more innocent than before, the tall, handsome blond from around the 1940s with shiny eyes to die for was giving her one of them looks that equalled to having thousands of knives guiltily stirred around your gut. "Well, me and Clint, we've been secretly dating a while…"

"Oh" was all he replied with. The thing was, he wasn't even disappointed she was taken as the avengers always had secret suspicions of the pair of agents, he felt guilty and dirty. Back in his time, something like what he'd just done would be looked on and the majority of Brooklyn would have hated his guts. The guilt was made a million times worse by the fact Clint was his teammate; they were friends, _close _friends. Heavily sighing, he returned to his fussing and tidying.

Natasha puffed from behind him, the mattress making a noise as she heavily flopped backwards "Steve, are you mad?" her question was sincere and the sadness and bad-feelings clear in her quiet voice.

Turning with an apologetic smile, he shook his hair "no no, just guilt getting the better of me" he admitted sheepishly.

"Guilty for what?" she frowned, pushing herself up and resting her elbows on the mattress, ruffling the covers up.

"The kiss" he laughed, sending the top of his ears dark pink, making Natasha chuckle and shake her bed-messed hair. "What?" he asked, trying to cover his smile by frowning.

"It was just a little kiss, didn't mean anything, fussy."

"I guess" he shrugged, motioning his hands around her so she'd lie back down "but I wish you'd told me"

Rolling her eyes sleepily, Natasha pulled the sheets over her head and tucked her knees under her chest, wriggling around to get comfortable.

The unbearable shooting pain ticked around her sleeping body all night, sending her arms in all directions and body tossing and turning. Steve chewed his lip sadly, this was only the first night and he was exhausted with being useless.


	5. Chapter 5

Frowning into her breakfast bowl, Natasha stirred uncomfortably on the wooden chairs around the table which sat all of the avengers. Also frowning, Clint looked up from his phone and sent her a puzzled look.

"What's up with you?" he asked, nodding in her direction, confusion and concern clear in his eyes.

Eyes slowly wondering up from the table, Natasha pushed her hair back casually and shrugged, letting out a long breathe. Unexpectedly she let out a whelp, groaning and clutching her stomach in pain, choking on her breath. Naturally, the Avengers stood up protectively, Clint soon at her side.

"Natasha?!" he asked again, more urgently this time.

"Hey, give her some space" Steve suggested politely to everyone, causing them all to glare at him.

"We'll give her space when we know what's wrong!" Clint hissed back, head returning to Natasha, eyes sad and scared.

"I'm fine" she chuckled, standing up slowly and walking out of the room as if nothing had happened.

Confused glances and shrugs were passed around the room as Clint stood up and watched her leave, sighing sadly.

A few hours had passed since anyone had seen Natasha, who was in her room doing whatever she did with her spare time. Clint had spent those few hours moping around sadly, sighing and fretting about her.

"For fuck sakes birdbrain, go check on her already, you're driving me mental!" Stark snapped from the small leather sofa, feet perched on the coffee table, mug and paper in one hand, remote control to some new machine in the other.

Rolling his eyes he sulkily stood up and stalked off to Natasha's room which was located on the floor above, where she had more privacy from the 'irritating children' as she'd called the Avengers when they first moved into Stark's building. After running his hand through his hair he knocked on the bedroom door gently (bedroom meaning the huge room with everything in it and then doors leading to yet more huge rooms, such as her own training area).

"Come in" her voice sighed from inside, her eye roll clear in her voice.

Quietly he opened the door and waved a hello, perching on the wooden desk in the corner opposite the couch she was awkwardly lying across.

"Oh hey" she smiled, slowly pulling herself into a sitting position.

"Hello" he smiled, scanning her with his eyes

"Don't" she snapped, smiling still.

"Sorry" he chuckled, going to sit beside her "but you need to tell me what's up. One, we've worked together for ages so I know you, secondly I'm trained in body language, I know something's up!"

Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulders, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. "I can't"

"Why not?" he pouted

"Because 1, it's unimportant, 2, I know you too well and how you'd react." Her reply was flat and sad.

"Please?" he begged quietly as he kissed the top of her head, making her feel guilty and sigh yet again.

"Fine" she rolled her eyes, sitting up properly to face him, crossed legs. He smiled thankfully and took one of her hands to play with her fingers "I'm ill"

"I can see that" he raised an eyebrow, ushering for her to be specific

"Cancer." She shrugged coldly, as if the word was evil itself.

She felt his hand drop hers, he didn't say anything, he didn't move, his eyes stayed fixed on the cushions of the sofa, she wasn't even sure if he was breathing.


	6. Chapter 6

**I have my freaking laptop back guys! Thanks for your patience! **

"Clint?" Natasha laughed awkwardly, nudging him in the ribs "Clint!" he hadn't spoken for what seemed like hours and it was worrying her. His face was bowed and hidden; it felt he was completely emotionless, frozen right there. "Clint…" she repeated, sounding tired and sad.

Slowly he lifted his head up at her, his eyes stung red and tears slowly fell down his paler cheeks. Apologetically he smiled sadly, wiping his face with the back of his arm. "Yeah?" he whispered back, voice rough.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly, edging towards him slightly. Her question made him frown a little.

"What's wrong?" he repeated her, sounding a little angry. "What's wrong is you never fucking told me! You weren't even going to tell me!" his fists clenched and his face reddened, the sadness and frustration was radiating off him. Natasha swallowed hard and looked away for several seconds, when her eyes returned to his face, tears were quickly gushing down to his chin.

"No don't cry!" she said quickly, wiping the base of her thumb across his face softly but the tears fell too fast for her to keep his face dry. Her eyes went to his, he looked broken and defeated, something which didn't seem possible. Giving into the tiredness, guilt and many types of pain, she made a sobbing noise from the back of her throat, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly into a real cuddle she cried into his shoulder as he stroked the back of her neck with the tips of his fingers.

"I'm sorry" she whispered through sobs, tightening her arms around his neck "I'm so sorry, I just didn't want this" she admitted grumpily.

Chuckling dismally, he stroked her messy auburn hair and kissed her forehead "stop apologising, at least now I know, okay?"

"Okay" she whispered, burying her face in his neck, snuggling up to his warmness "no more secrets, I promise" the last bit left a stinging in her heart.

**I'm sorry it took so long to be up but you'll get chapters more often now, there's probably going to be a lot.**

**OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MANY OF YOU ALERT THIS, I LOVE YOU ALL**

**Reviews are great btw ;) *hint hint***


	7. Chapter 7

**I have my freaking laptop back guys! Thanks for your patience! **

Dimly the sun peeped through the huge wall to wall windows of the bottom floor garage where the avengers were lolling around on old deckchairs they found amongst other old rubbish. Jane, Thor, Darcy and Bruce were quietly chatting to one another further to the right and everyone else just sat there, watching the sky. Restlessly Natasha shuffled around in her seat, she was freezing gold, her head hurt like hell and her stomach churned and squeezed more than it had ever done before.

Having had enough of the painful silence and freezing yet humid room, she stood up and shakily went to sit outside. Clint sighed from his chair as he left, feeling useless as nothing was going to make her feel better.

Natasha could hear Steve and Clint mumbling to one another through the glass but there words weren't clear. She could have easily have lip read, but moving or turning wasn't a comfortable option right now, so she settled with leaning against the cool glass and listening to Clint's comforting voice.

After a while his voice had become silent, sighing at the new silence, Natasha played with the soft grass underneath her, twisting it and pulling it out in messy clumps.

"Hey" a familiar voice came from beside her, making her jump a little as she hadn't heard footsteps or doors opening.

She turned to see Clint sitting beside her, watching her hands pull up the grass. His face was pale and dark circles were forming under his eyes, they were bad but not as bad as hers. Clint looked tired, very very tired, and broken. Almost as if Natasha's illness had more impact on him than herself.

"Hi" she smiled through her wince as she shuffled up to him, leaning her head on his shoulder in hope she'd warm up a little. "What were you and Steve talking about?"

"You" he admitted casually, not that she was surprised.

"Thought so" she laughed half-heartedly, nudging him weakly with her elbow "specifically?"

"You and him"

**I'm sorry it took so long to be up but you'll get chapters more often now, there's probably going to be a lot.**

**OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MANY OF YOU ALERT THIS, I LOVE YOU ALL**

**Reviews are great btw ;) *hint hint***


	8. Chapter 8

The guilt whirling inside of her made the pain a lot worse, she resulted in bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them tight, closing her eyes and resting her head on her knees. Anytime soon she was probably going to have to make a run to the nearest bathroom so she can throw her guts up and cry. _'Jesus I'm a mess.'_

"Hey, come here" Clint whispered gently to her, pulling her waist so she was safely tucked under his arm "just relax; it won't hurt as much then."

"I don't care" she snapped "it always hurts, I don't give a fuck how much it hurts, where it hurts, it just constantly hurts!" her voice grew angrier as she fought off tears

"I'm going to die!" she shouted cruelly, making his head turn from her, again he had been reduced to tears. Quickly and warmly they ran down his emotionless face, the thought that she'd just screamed that at him hurting his chest.

"Then so will I" he told her plainly after turning back at her. There was no 'might' or 'maybe' in his voice. He stated it as a well known fact. Natasha's eyes widened in horror, she really didn't look pleased with what he'd just said.

Her fragile hand wiped across his face fast, leaving a radioactive purple mark on his cheek and eye, automatically his hands pressed against where she'd hit him, blood had started to pour from the gash her nails left behind. Clint looked up to the sound of an engine, Natasha was driving away.


	9. Chapter 9

Clint found her on a park bench, no emotion on her face at all. After trying several times to start a conversation with her, no such happened. She just sat there in silence, there had been a lot of silence today and it was growing uncomfortable.

"Natasha, I didn't mean to upset you" he murmured from the floor where he knelt in front of her, desperately trying for a response. It was pretty clear she wasn't going to reply.

Feeling annoying and unwanted, he got up and took the car keys from his pocket "I love you Tash" he called as he walked away.

Forty five minutes later, Clint's black car pulled up on the curb again; slowly he got out and leaned against the door. He was holding what looked like a credit card on a wire. "Tash, come with me?" he asked gently, motioning to the passenger seat. As before, she didn't reply.

"Natalia Romanova." Clint's voice was strong and powerful this time, Natasha winced at her former name as well as his voice. Reluctantly she stood up and slid into the warmness of his car, cursing him under her breath, making him chuckle with relief.

"I'm sorry by the way" she nodded as he drove away from the park "you just really shocked me"

"It's okay, I've had worse" he joked, turning into an alleyway.

"Did you mean it?" Natasha ignored her new surroundings and concentrated on him.

He knew full well what she meant. "I did."

"I love you too, Barton" she smiled, the pain seared through her yet she was unable to ignore it, leaning over and kissing his cheek gently. "Now why are we here?"

Pushing away the huge grin that was trying to spread over his face, Clint got out of the car and opened the passenger door for her politely, taking her by the hand and entering a huge metal door.

From the moment they stepped in Natasha recognised where they were. They were in the SHIELD infirmary, reserved for agents and such people when there was no other hope. Nervously squeezing Clint's hand she followed him down the pristine clean hallways and to a doorway covered in warnings. It was one of the medication rooms.

"You know what these are" he reminded her, smiling encouragingly "and you also know only one person can go in."

"I don't want to go alone" she admitted, looking at the floor and swallowing hard.

"For your own benefit" he whispered soothingly, taking both of her hands and squeezing them. Gently he kissed her forehead "I'll be on the phone with you too" he reassured her, handing her a slim black phone from the back pocket of his jeans. It was one of the new hospital phones that Tony had made, they didn't interfere with the hospital equipment but you could only make calls on them.

"Thanks" she smiled through the tears slowly shifting down her cheekbones "I love you"

"and I love you" he replied, reluctantly letting go of her fingers as she stepped into the white room.


	10. Chapter 10

"Do you see the rack labelled 45663?" Clint asked down the phone, voice shaking but he tried his very best to be calm.

Natasha looked around the room, everything what annoyingly white and almost neon. Trays were stacked high of empty capsules and different coloured liquids. Spotting the rack he mentioned, she made a noise of affirmation down the phone, pulling the tray out.

"There's one labelled with your surname" he told her, nervously chewing his thumbnail, starting to pace.

"Got it" she frowned, balancing the phone with her chin on her shoulder, sliding the tube out "how'd they know I was coming..?" she asked out of curiosity.

Rolling his eyes automatically at her questions he chuckled "Steve booked you in, basically he told me this stuff will stop the pain after your treatment, but we're only allowed to use it in last case situations, and this is what we have left." His voice went rough towards the end; Natasha could tell he was crying again.

"What do I do with it boss?" she teased, attempted to cheer him up or at least make him smile, a chuckle came through the speaker, making her smile to herself in victory.

"Inject it into your collarbone" he told her sadly, knowing it was going to hurt her and he couldn't even help. He heard her sigh and shuffle around, bottles clinking and the pressure of needles hissing.

"Okay, I'm about to do it…" she narrated him "this'll help right?"

"Right."

"3, 2, 1" then there was a hiss, a curse and a loud thud.

"Natasha…?" No reply. "Tash?!" Still nothing.

Dropping the phone Clint burst through all the doors violently, sending things crashing messily on the floor.

His eyes snapped to Natasha, she was lying on the floor, eyes clenched shut and holding her stomach in pain.


	11. Chapter 11

**Some of you were commenting on eye colour, I know people always argue about what colour character eyes are but I just base my colours on the Marvel Encyclopedia I own, just clearing it up :D x x x**

"No!" he shouted, crashing to the floor beside her "Tash this isn't funny, get up!"

He was now holding her in his lap protectively, rocking her back and forth sobbing as her chest moved slowly and heavily. Footsteps were heard from behind but Clint ignored them, focussing on Natasha.

"I love you" she smiled through her pale bloodstained lips "always have, always will; I promise you Clint Barton" tears were now peacefully rolling down her porcelain cheeks, leaving bloody water marks. After a few moments the sharp puffs of her breath stopped, her chest laid still and her eyes closed. Clint sobs grew more heart wrenching each second; nervously he continued to shake her cautiously in a sad attempt to wake her up.

Abruptly he noticed the comforting beat of her heart disappear, coldness engulfing himself as well as her, life rapidly draining from the redheads fragile body.

"Come on Tash, Tash, Tash wake up" his voice was muffled through sobs, occasionally choking and spluttering. "Please" he whispered finally, his eyes had closed and shoulders slumped. A firm comforting hand placed upon his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

"Come along, Barton" Coulson said strictly but sadly, grabbing his shoulders so the other agents could slide Natasha's body out of site. Clint's 'no's' and 'stops' were muffled in his sorrow, ending him up being guided down the hallways by Coulson and agent Hill, who were both also crying.

Angrily Clint shrugged off their grips and began to race down the halls to where Natasha's body was being kept, of course the other two were going to sprint after him but neither had the heart to stop him from seeing her.

As he'd been into that room many of times after missions, he knew where she'd be. Stopping outside the door he placed a hand on the wall, propping himself up. His head was growing lighter and lighter whilst his heart sunk heavier, Hill and Coulson caught up, not stopping too close but close enough so he could be caught if or when his knees gave in.

"I want to see her." His voice was cold and mean but the others had known him long enough to tell he was crying.

"Let them clean her up, eh?" Maria Hill's comforting voice answered him, the sorrow thick and clear. Clint nodded, knowing he should let her be cleaned up, his brow lowered in deep thought, memories and messages whirling around his head. All of a sudden his eyes widened a little and his fists clenched, nails digging into his palms and drawing blood.

"This is my fault…" he hissed, making Coulson take a step forward and Hill shake her head in obvious disagreement "Steve said it would work, not kill her" She was supposed to get better" he roared, punching a large dent into the cement wall causing more blood to drip from his hand. Another agent came out and began to whisper to Hill as Coulson took Clint by the shoulders and forced him to look at his face.

"Barton. I'll have none of that" the agent snapped out of good intent "Smyth, here" he ordered the agent who had finished whispering to Hill, after he had came to his side, he asked of Romanoff's final death certificate. A cream piece of paper was handed over before an apologetic nod and an exit. It was a good job SHIELD had faster and more experienced morticians, the wait for her death certificate would have been long and torturing, thoughts and answers draining the sanity slowly from his mind.

Coulson didn't bother to read it just yet, he handed it over to Clint, who slowly read it, tears running down his face faster.

The realisation she was dead only just sinking in.


	12. Chapter 12

Natasha lay neatly on a large metal bench, trolleys covered in numerous types of surgical equipment and needles scattered around the brightly lit room; a crisp white sheet was placed over her still body.

"Ah, agent Barton" a grey haired woman smiled softly, shaking his hand with a good-meaning force.

Clint nodded a greeting and watched her take his hand.

Brushing off his ignorance as he had an extremely valid excuse, she patted his arm before walking towards the body, beckoning him to follow.

Steadily she pulled back the white sheets, exposing the deceased red haired assassin.

Her skin was a pearly white, she was usually pale so it didn't look so odd; her hair had been combed into controlled curls, the LED lighting making her hair shine a dull auburn, since she'd been diagnosed with cancer the natural orange glow had faded; the bags under her eyes were hidden under the make up they'd used to tidy her up; she was wearing her usual SHIELD uniform, the only difference was that her weapons had been taken from their usual 'hiding' places.

"There was no need for any surgical actions or internal testing, I just took a blood sample and the results were here in 5 minutes" the woman informed him, taking a couple of steps back so he had space. "Thank God for SHIELD technology eh?" she chuckled, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Clint nodded, his hands slowly reached out for Natasha's but he didn't touch, his fingers lingered just above hers.

"I'll give you some privacy" she whispered before patting his arm again then walking from the room.

Agent Coulson stood outside the door to the SHIELD mortuary, his eyes remained fixed on the small window at the top of the door, watching the other agent inside.

Clint's hand remained above Natasha's, he was unsure about almost everything right now. This didn't seem at all real; she looked at peace, like she was sleeping. In his mind she _was_ asleep; any type of thought relating to her death was quickly destroyed and replaced by the word 'sleep'.

Slowly his hand brushed against hers, instantly he noticed the lack of heat.

A small sob escaped from the back of his throat as he stroked her soft hands before he very gently took it in his, holding it cautiously, resting his forehead against their entwined fingers.

"I love you Tash" he managed to whisper roughly through tears, turning her other hand over and kissing it lightly.

Gradually her hands were returned to her sides, Clint stroked her cheek delicately, and the smooth coldness of her skin raising the amount of tears that abruptly left his eyes.

Languidly he leaned forward and kissed her paled lips as gently as he could before standing up properly, making sure he hadn't gotten any of his stupid tears on her.

After brushing her hair from her face neatly, kissing her forehead and assuring himself she was neat, he knelt beside the bench and whispered, "I'm sorry Tash, this is my entire fault, I'm sorry and I love you."

A few calm strides towards the door turned into frantic jogging, he burst out of the room and started to sprint down the hallway, he had to get away from Coulson.

"_This isn't your fault!"_ Coulson's voice shouted in his head, battling with the pictures of a sick Natasha crying and his own voice shouting "_This is your fault!"_

The death certificate told him it was the cancerous cells which had killed her, but he refused to believe it.

Coulson's footsteps were distinctly heard behind Clint's making him pick up speed.

"Stop Barton!" Coulson called into a speaker attached to his blazer, probably a message sent out to the workers in the front office.

Clint was now in the lobby, a few feet away from the door. He scanned the room, a number of agents were running for him, instinctively he dived for the door, but agent Smyth was there just in time, grabbing him by the elbow and holding him still.

"Clint!" Coulson sighed, taking his other elbow "I'm not letting you leave just like that?"

"Why?!" he shouted back, anger mixing with the loss in his eyes.

"You're not okay Clint, you don't have to hide that from us, you've worked here for years"

"Exactly" Clint snapped "_work_. I've finished working now, so I'm going home!"

"No, no you're not" Coulson told him as softly as he could.

"You can't keep me here!"

"We can under arrest…" Coulson started, his eyes made it clear he hated to do this.

"I've done nothing wrong…" Clint argued, quieter this time.

"I'm sorry" Coulson whispered, before speaking up and making his voice more official, "Clint Barton I'm arresting you for the murder of agent Natasha Romanoff"

Clint's knees buckled from under him, making Smyth have to hold him tighter and with more energy, sadly and hesitantly leading him to the cell block.


	13. Chapter 13

Clint sat alone and silent in the cell room, he didn't move or think he just sat there.

Quietly Coulson entered the room and sat on the hard plastic chair opposite the agent, guiltily scanning him.

"I'm sorry Clint but this is the only way I can keep you here" Coulson apologised, sighing and patting his friends shoulder.

"Why do you want me here?" he asked quietly, remaining still.

"We're all worried about what you might… do to yourself…"

"What? You mean _kill _myself Coulson?"

"Yes" he nodded "that's what we're worried about"

"Other agents have committed suicide before, right? I'm just like them, fucked up big time and it's my time to go"

"Natasha wouldn't want this" Coulson whispered.

"Well she isn't fucking here!" Clint shouted, it was obvious he was fighting the tears.

"Not physically, no" the agent shook his head "but you love her Clint, you always have, you'll always have her with you"

"Oh don't get soppy." he hissed "I told you her death was my fault."

Coulson took Clint by the arm and stood him up, speaking sternly, "no, Clint"

"Then why have you arrested me for murder?!" he raged, clenching his fists and teeth.

Instead of replying, Coulson embraced Clint in a friendly hug, feeling the archer tense, he refused to give in "come on Clint, we all care about you"

Sighing, Clint relaxed a tiny bit and sniffled "then you'll let me go home"

Coulson nodded his head and patted Clint's back, motioning for him to exit the room with him "I'm coming to"

"What a surprise" Clint groaned, rolling his eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Here we are, the final chapter!**

Awkwardly Clint sat on the edge of the sofa in his tiny apartment, the last time he'd been here was after a mission with Natasha, and they'd eaten all the junk food in the cupboard then fallen asleep entwined with one another on the bed. The room felt like it didn't belong to him, like it was just some random acquaintance's home where he was lodging.

Coulson was beside him flicking through the channels on the TV, attempting but failing to at least distract them both a tiny bit.

"I always thought I'd die first" Clint outburst quietly, more to himself than Coulson, but the other agent turned the TV off and listened. "Or maybe together, in a huge mission, years from now. Not this"

"I know" he comforted "nobody expected this, not even you"

"I wanted us to be buried together, we both did, we did everything together"

"You can still be buried together, in years from now after you've lived your life you can be buried beside her, if that's what you still want"

"Do you have her funeral sheets?" Clint asked.

Most SHIELD agents monthly updated their files on their funeral, they basically just wrote down their will and their funeral requests, Natasha insisted they always updated theirs.

"Of course, do you want us to follow them?" Coulson asked, a little glad Clint was at least thinking of the future.

"Yes, it's what she wanted, she made it pretty clear" he almost chuckled, remembering her stubbornness, Coulson just simply smiled.

They sat in the silence for a while, reeling memories of the red haired agent in their minds like a recording.

"I'll make us some drinks" Coulson spoke up absent minded, walking through the narrow doorway into the kitchen.

Now was Clint's chance, he pulled back the cushions of the sofa and retrieved the small gun.

Coulson hurriedly started to make them both drinks; he didn't want Clint to be alone for too long yet, the risk was far too high. Whilst waiting for the kettle to boil, he looked around the room; small but significant memoirs and souvenirs of their missions together were dotted around on shelves and taped to the fridge.

Sighing he leaned on the kitchen top, he was really going to miss Natasha.

From the other room came a quiet click, Coulson stood up straight, straining his ears to listen closer.

Clint sobbed a little, causing Coulson to clumsily rush back into the lounge where Clint stood, a gun placed on his own temple.

"I'm sorry" he sobbed, closing his eyes "this is what I want, I want Natasha"

Fear paralysed Coulson, sweat forming in the palm of his hands. "Clint no!" he shouted, but it was too late. The bang of the bullet releasing shuddered around the room; Clint's body tumbled to the floor, blood soaking the rug already.

Coulson pressed the button on his blazer, causing half a dozen or so agents to come rushing in.

Sadly, he left the room, not looking back at the mess inside. He wanted to only remember the happy Clint, or at least the stubborn, arrogant sarcastic archer that everyone got along with.

Getting into his car, a few tears spilled from the corner of his eyes. Ignoring everything around him, he drove back to the SHIELD office to write his reports on how he lost both of his top assassins.


End file.
